


drain the whole sea

by leov66



Series: atla au with no name (yet) [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mentions of Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, i mean?? there is but there isnt tbh., im so sorry, mentions of depression, mentions of vomit, t rated for somehow graphic description of a mental breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leov66/pseuds/leov66
Summary: "Yakov finds him in a corner of the library, shaking and crying with hands over his ears. He waits until he's able to breathe again and then takes him home."viktor accidentally learns the harsh truth about his parents' deaths and old wounds open again. (maybe they never closed)





	drain the whole sea

**Author's Note:**

> TW FOR ANXIETY ATTACK(S), A DEPRESSIVE EPISODE, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SELF DESTRUCTIVE THOUGHTS AND BEHAVIOUR - STAY SAFE MY FRIENDS!!!
> 
>  
> 
> oh and if you havent read the first two works in the series you prob wont understand viktors reaction and emotions properly...

Viktor is shaking, his hands are trembling, but he doesn't cry. He bites on the inside of his cheek until he feels blood. The words, the vile, twisted words, repeat themselves in his head and they don't stop and his head is pounding.

 

_They've killed us all. I'm the only one left and I hope that you think about it every single day in your filthy palace and heavy robes. There are no more benders left on the South Pole when I die and maybe if you had helped us there would be._

 

She's wrong. She's wrong about the benders so maybe she's wrong about their deaths. He knows she's not, but he tries not to think about it.

 

_You know nothing of cruelty, of pain and suffering. They treated us like animals, like rats. Kept in cages, starved, denied water and beaten. We were said it'd be an honor to die fighting but there was no fight, it was just torture. My friends, husbands and wifes, fathers and mothers, they all suffered in a way you would never understand. You shouldn't even try. Remember their names instead. Every single one. Remember how they died, why they died. Remember your guilt. I could come back, but the mere thought of seeing your face fills me with disgust._

 

It feels a bit too personal to read, but he doesn't care. He skips over to the part that hurts him the most. The names. Two names specifically.

Aleksandra. Pyotr.

His parents were dead. They didn't die like heroes, they died like victims. That was all they were in the end. There was nothing beautiful in that, nothing to admire. Just two more prisoners, weak and empty.

He looks at the words, again and again, the letters elegant but piercing. His entire body is shaking. His legs are giving in but he doesn't move at all, his eyes never leaving the paper. He moves on to another part.

 

_I cannot stand you, but someone needs to carry on my work. Teach your students what I have written here if there will be any. They might need it, should the war begin again. Within every living body there is water. That means it is within our power to be used. Like a puppetmaster controls a marionette, a bloodbender controls anything and anybody. During the many years that I have spent as a prisoner, I have discovered this art and practised it on rats until I became a master. Although at first it was only by the full moon that I was able to perform such a thing, as time went by, my powers grew and grew. When I was sure my attempt at breaking free would not fail, I took control over a guard, released myself from the cage I had been put into and walked free for the first time in years. You don't and never will have any idea how it felt. I walked around the land that took everything I had away. I watched the war come to an end and felt nothing. I had no wish to return to neither the place I used to call home nor the place you live in and eventually, I settled in a village where I intend to stay until my dying day. It does not matter where exatly I live as the only goal of mine that includes you is to tell you what is left of your brothers and sisters from the South Pole. The technique itself is nothing short of simplicity, think of being handed a puppet's strings and pulling at them accordingly. Think of what had been taken away from our tribe and what those monsters did to us. That shall be enough._

 

He reads it over and over and over until it's the only thing he can think of.

 

_Think of what had been taken away from our tribe and what those monsters did to us._

 

He does, oh, he does. He thinks of his mother and his father, dead, in a mass grave or burnt to ashes. He thinks of his grandfather, almost always smiling, supportive of him no matter what, who never tried to get him to stay when he said he'd go, who had already lost so much yet was still willing to give, who died from a weak heart because there was no healer at the South Pole. He thinks of his brother, too young to remember their parents with many details, too talented for his own good, with a glass heart that had turned to ice along the way, who was forced to grow up too fast, who thought he was not enough, who watched his closest family leave him until he was all alone at the age of fourteen.

He thinks of himself, the so-called Pride of the Water Tribe, a pathetic, selfish, arrogant, spoiled brat. He thinks if his parents would be proud and he knows the answer. Why would they be?

He reads the letter again until he knows it by heart. He reads the detailed descriptions that follow every name, he memorises the woman's story and her instructions to bloodbending.

 

_Do not try to reach me in any way, your efforts will be fruitless, anyway. I do not wish to ever talk to you again. The only two things I ask of you is to remember me, remember us, and to preserve my art and pass it on._

_Had things gone different, I might have been yours. Lilia_

 

He puts the letter where he found it. He leaves Yakov's study and walks to his home. The door closes behind him and a wratched sob leaves his body. He collapses to the floor and cries and cries and cries. He calls out for his mother until his throat is raw and vomits until his stomach is prefectly empty. His hair that he used to love so much clings to his face, sweaty and ugly. When there are no more tears inside him, he takes a kitchen knife and cuts it. It's messy and slow, but he doesn't feel it touching his neck anymore and that's enough. He throws it in the fire and watches it burn. He thinks of his mother and it starts again. He pulls at the short strands that were left and revels in the pain it gives. There are moments where he stops, sometimes for an hour, sometimes less.

He doesn't know how long it lasts, but a sharp knock at the door wakes him up from the miserable slumber he somehow managed to fall into.

 

"It's been almost a week, Vitya."

 

It's Yakov. He gives him water (ah, the irony), makes sure he eats and helps him with cleaning the mess he had made. He offers him help with his hair, but Viktor isn't ready for anybody to touch it yet. He shakes his head and his eyes fill with tears again. Everything is a blur and nothing feels real.

Days morph into nights and he can't quite grasp the concept of time anymore. He sleeps, breaks down, cleans (or tries to clean) the mess he made, sleeps, walks around the rooms and breaks down again and the circle goes on. Yakov comes sometimes, usually with something warm to eat. He tries to get better and sometimes it works.

After seventeen days, he leaves his house. His hair looks good, thanks to his master's skillful hands, it's short but he's got bangs to cover his bloodshot eyes. He's tired, an unfamiliar ache deep inside his bones and mind. He sits close to Yakov and watches the youngest kids fight. He envies their light, their ease and happiness.

After twenty days, he tries to bend. It's nothing big, just a simple movement he knows by heart, but nothing happens. The students look at him with a mix of curiosity and pity and Viktor wants to scream. He wants to pull his hair and punch the wall, but he doesn't. His lungs tighten instead, making it impossible to breathe. His throat is dry and he can't say anything, either, so he just leaves without a word.

Yakov finds him in a corner of the library, shaking and crying with hands over his ears. He waits until he's able to breathe again and then takes him home. Viktor feels so worthless and disgusting he can barely swallow. He wonders if there's a way to control his own body, to pump everything out or freeze it to the bone. He doubts he has the power to do it, though, since he can't do a single stupid thing-

There he goes again. He was smart enough to lock the door this time.

After three days, he tries again. He doesn't succeed, but he bites his lip until there's blood and tries again. And he tries again.

After eleven days, it's the full moon. He's by the shore, covered in the warmest robe he owns. He must've lost weight, he thinks as he watches his reflection in the water. His face looks thinner, his eyes duller and his face paler. He tries again, with the moon behind him and in front of him, filling him with the strength of his ancestors. He thinks of his mother, gentle and good, and the ocean follows his command. It's sloppy, he's still empty, but it's better than nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) story time! originally, this was the follow-up to the bloodbending talk/promise viktor and yakov had (referenced in [through my rise and fall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11186928) but turned into this because i felt like after mentioning the letter in[and the silence is ringing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11312598%22) this needed to be written
> 
> 2) there is nothing beautiful in depression and anxiety. it should never be portrayed as such because they are ilnesses that fuck with you and can ruin your life if you spiral out of control
> 
> 3) im sorry if i went a lil too overboard witht this. uhh what can i say. i wrote this based on the way i experience anxiety and depressive episodes and it surely isnt the same for everyone.
> 
> 4) remember! youre never alone. the world can be a really cool place sometimes. youre always welcome to talk to me on my tumblr [bikiforov](https://bikiforov.tumblr.com) or here
> 
> 5) take ur meds, dont stay up to write sad shit like me, drink ur milk/water/beverage of choice???, take care of urself. i know its hard but u cant wait for someone to fix u. be ur own wonderwoman. just do it.
> 
> 6) work title from hozier's 'take me to church'


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